The Power of Freljord
by IceDrowning
Summary: The cold war within Freljord heats up as the Frostguard make their move on the Avarosan clan. Lissandra will prove to the world that Freljord possesses the greatest power any has ever seen. Particularly, she will convince a noble frost archer... WARNING: Hard M. Noone under 18 please. Explicit and dark nature. READ AUTHOR NOTES
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I am not Riot and I do not own League of Legends or any of its champions

**A/N:** Hello fellow summoners and LoL fans. This is my first fic in a good while and it will also be my first official smut fic. This is chapter one of the two part story. The following chapter will contain graphic non-consensual sexually explicit material. **This is a dark fic**. No kiddies allowed! Reviews are appreciated.

It was a typical day at the Avarosan festival which welcomed the New Year. In the courtyard congregated the typical Freljordian officials and generals in their finest ceremonial garments. Ashe too was in her traditional royal robes that were passed down through the generations. They were eloquent, yet relatively simple. The robe was as white as the Freljordian snow with blue highlights along its sides. On the center of the robes, sewn with golden thread sat the Avarosan crest, the symbol of her undying loyalty to her clan and the nation of Freljord. Ultimately, the wellbeing of Freljord was her life's purpose. The unity of the large and sparsely inhabited country was the most challenging goal in fulfilling that purpose. Sejuiani with her rough mountain Ice Claw clan and Lissandra leading the mysterious Frostguard made every step she took feel as if she walked on thin ice. One wrong move and the favor of the people could sway to another of the clan leaders, or worse, the clans could take advantage of a misplaced step and attack.

Just thinking about the seemingly endless war bothered Ashe as she rubbed her hands uncomfortably in her lap. Soon the musician, playing a classical Freljordian ballad, would be finishing up and it would be time for both her and her husband to give the first speech of the New Year. There was only one problem with that. Tryndamere was nowhere in sight. Ashe was accustomed well enough to his antics by now to guess that he was already over indulging in wine. She held a deep admiration for the man, but sometimes his less than civil ways were just short of insufferable. Silently she wished that she had her bow to fidget with while waiting impatiently for the barbarian to arrive. As was tradition, all attending the festival came unarmed to symbolize the utmost respect and adherence to peace. The talented musician was on the final verse of the ballad as Ashe began to think she would have to go through with the speech without Tryndamere. Before the song finished, however, a loud disruptive boom resounded from the east. It came from inside the city.

Ashe got to her feet as she, and all the festival goers, looked in the direction of the unsettling sound. The alarm bells sounded immediately. Soon enough a guard from the eastern watch tower came charging through the courtyard gates. The bulky man seemed out of breath as short bursts of condensation seeped out of his thick beard. On his face was a look of panic and on his clothes were stains of what appeared to be blood. "My Queen! My Queen! The Frostguard are attacking the city! The Iceborn are here!" The Frostguard? Iceborn? But the only Iceborn in existence was Lissandra. Unless…

"Calm yourself Trajan. Get everyone inside and tell them not to come out until the guards say otherwise. Gather as many soldiers as you can and defend the inner towers while I find Tryndamere to gather the barbarians." Another boom sounded as the courtyard walls shook. "Quickly Trajan."

"Yes, Your Majesty." He said, bowing his head slightly before jumping on stage to begin giving orders. Ashe resisted the urge to frown. She never did get used to being called such flamboyant titles of royalty. Even in these dire circumstances she couldn't help but feel awkward being referred to as anything other than Ashe.

There was no time to dwell on it. The archer needed to find her husband. She needed to grab her bow. Without a moment of further hesitation she bolted to the direction of the palace. The nimble young woman made it to the doors of the palace in what seemed to be mere seconds. She hurriedly threw the doors open and ran into the large elaborately decorated common room. A fire roared in the fireplace at the right wall of the room. The room was all but vacant aside from one woman cowering in the far corner of the room by the staircase. When the woman saw Ashe she anxiously came over to her, fear evident on her face. Ashe recognized her as the housemaid. She spoke quickly, "My lady, what is happening? Are we under attack?"

There was no time to humor her or herself by pondering exactly what was going on. "Bertha, where is my husband?" The housemaid seemed lost for a second as if the question failed to register.

Then the lights came on and she replied "He said he would be heading to the bedchamber to dress for the festival. I thought he would have left by now. Have you not seen him?" Ashe shook her head. "Gather everyone in the palace. Head to the cellar and stay there. We will come for you when it is safe. Go now."

Without waiting for a response or making sure her order was obeyed the Freljordian queen made her way to the staircase. If Tryndamere was still in their bedchamber then she could retrieve both her husband and her bow. She ran as fast as her petite legs could carry her, skipping a step or two as she scaled the flights of dark granite steps. Finally she made it to the top floor. The royal bedchamber was situated at the end of the hall. Panting and out of breath she pushed her heavy legs onward through the hall. When she finally arrived she realized that someone had beaten her to the room. Dark, almost black ice encased the heavy oak doors that lead to the bedroom. The ominously dark ice was solid and at least an inch thick. There would be no getting to the other side of her own accord and it was doubtful she should bother anyone else with the task of breaking into the room.

Frustrated to be unable to retrieve her bow and fight with her soldiers or find her husband from within the confines of the room the young Freljordian woman slammed her fist on the icy door. To her horror she soon realized that gaining entry to the room was not her biggest problem as laughter resounded from behind the frozen doors. Without warning a surge of energy forced its way through the door. It instantly shattered. Shards of both wood and ice were sent flying at the Avarosan queen as she was sent back into the stone wall behind her. A jarring clout of pain was sent through her shoulder as bone collided with rock. Both ice and wood splinters alike ripped through her flesh and embedded in her skin. Ashe could not help but release a cry of painful surprise.

For a moment she sat against the cold stone wall disoriented and unable to hear anything but a muffled ringing sound. As her senses gradually came back to her the frost champion was keenly aware of that same laughter. A chilling and maniacal laughter. She slowly looked up at the source inside the dark icy room and found herself staring into the emotionless mask of the third child of Freljord. It was the merciless and powerful Ice Witch, the leader of the Frostguard, keeper of Freljord's ancient secrets: Lissandra. The hair on Ashe's neck prickled up as a chill crept up her spine. The noble queen stiffened and straightened her back in an attempt to look as proud and dignified as possible while sitting on the ground bleeding. It was then that she noticed her shoulder was resonating with a deep numbing pain. It was broken. Despite the discomfort Ashe refused to allow anything but a stoic expression to rest on her face as she peered behind Lissandra's mask to look her dead in the eyes. But something behind the powerful witch begged her attention and Ashe was too compelled to ignore it. Her gaze shifted to just a few feet behind Lissandra where, within a colossal mound of tainted ice, rested a figure. A human figure. Ashe gripped her robe when the realization hit her. It was Tryndamere. An expression of rage still visible from beneath the shadowy ice tomb.

Her stone cold glare trailed over to her fellow Freljordian who returned the look with a grin that was devoid of any joy. With a free hand the witch gestured over to the recently deceased barbarian. "What did you expect? The barbarian was a simple minded fool driven by nothing but animalistic rage." She scoffed allowing her hand to return to her side. Then Ashe noticed that Lissandra held not just one of her most treasured possessions in a frozen grip. In her left hand was Ashe's most sacred possession, her one companion that stood with her through countless battles and, in her hands, had slain thousands of capable opponents. The bow had been a rite of passage and the ultimate symbol of her leadership. It had been with her through numerous deaths and rebirths on the Fields of Justice and had carried her through the League as an iconic champion. Now the centuries old Avarosan bow was in the possession of the bitter witch of the north.

Ashe bit back her anger, not wanting to give any more control to the already empowered woman. Her voice was steady and untiring as she spoke "You traitorous witch. Do you not know that the League will have your head for this? How can you-" Lissandra cut her off before she was able to finish.

"Foolish child. Just as blind as I had suspected. Too arrogant to realize that in fact you are the traitor." Lissandra's gaze was as expressive as the barriers of stone and ice that coated the room. Inwardly the mage felt a sense of pleasure she had waited centuries for. Now was the time she was finally able to begin to unfold plans within plans. The witch couldn't feel too excited because, aside from the fact that she hardly had a sense of humanity left, she knew this day would come. Still Lissandra had waited so long for this, the day the Frostguard took over Freljord. This was the day The Watchers would return to claim the frozen wasteland. Ashe opened her mouth to begin to question but Lissandra cut her off again "By allowing this simple minded barbarian to rule at your side… by allowing this animal of a man to be your husband and by opening the doors of Freljord to his barbarian horde you have defiled the sanctity of Freljord. You have betrayed our nation and her people. Likewise, you have betrayed yourself."

Ashe was somewhat taken aback by the accusations. She was well aware of Freljordians general distain of outsiders and that of all the possibly unfit rulers, non-natives were considered to be the very worst. She had made the sacrifice however, as it was necessary in order to protect Freljord from a brutal Noxian conquest. Besides, the barbarians and Tryndamere didn't hold any real power in the future of Freljord. Just as she was prepared to explain this she was denied yet again.

"No doubt one as blind as you would be compelled to justify your actions. You have been just as foolish as this barbarian." Lissandra nonchalantly gestured to frozen corpse of her husband before continuing. "You have been so ignorant in your assumptions that Freljord could not protect itself from outside rule that you invited the idea in with open arms." The mage sneered as she spoke. "How pathetic. To assume that Freljord is as helpless without outside forces as you are without a bow. You disappoint me, dear child." Lissandra spoke with distaste while in reality she was gloating. The Barbarian kingship had been just what she expected. It had all been according to plan. The act made gaining quiet entry into the Avarosan city and the conversion of its people that much easier.

The witch pointed a ghostly hand in Ashe's direction "You disappoint Freljord who so desperately needed a competent leader. You are far too smart to be so dumb. I knew that you would fail though. That is why I could not sit ideally by while you defiled our great nation. That is why I have raided your city, killed your husband, and stolen your bow. The order of Freljord cannot be restored by your hand and you have not earned the right to call yourself its Queen. You've had no right to wield this bow."

Lissandra flicked her wrist and the sacred bow was sent flying across the room to be suddenly captured large claws of ice. "As if you could wield it in your current state. Your power resides in that bow while my power, the power of Freljord comes from within." Her cold stare never left the wary queen.

Lissandra had infinite control of a deadly magical ice. Ashe knew of this not only from her displays tonight but also from having quickly succumbed to the frigid grips of this merciless magic on the Fields of Justice many times before. The situation was hopeless; she could not outrun the claws of Lissandra's magic. The Ice Witch of the North had won. Even worse was that her accusations had placed doubt in Ashe's mind. Perhaps she was right. After all the barbarians were camped just outside the city walls and offered no resistance to the Frostguard. They did not even warn the Avarosans within. Tryndamere was murdered by the wicked witch before her without leaving as much as a scratch. If she had been stronger, if she had been smarter, she could have found a way to unify Freljord so that it could protect itself instead of having to rely on the Barbarians who were only willing to help in return for refuge. Without having to merry and consummate with their brutish chieftain… If only she could have done it all differently. Lissandra had been silently eyeing the wounded and bleeding archer, allowing her words to soak in. Then she raised an eyebrow from beneath her mask as Ashe bowed her head and spoke softly, her normally confident tone replaced with the somber sound of defeat.

"If have been so unworthy then please just go ahead and execute me as the traitor I am."

Lissandra, was now elated with the ease she, literally and figuratively, had brought the queen to her knees. Her hand which still pointed at the injured woman flicked upward at her and a massive icy claw charged at Ashe with a frightening speed. Ashe closed her eyes waiting for impact and for the inevitably cold clutch of death to consume her. But it never came. Instead the daunting form of the Ice Witch now stood mere inches in front of her.

"Kill you? I'm not even close to being done with you. You will bear witness to the power of Freljord and the coming of a new world." Ashe cried out as the lifelessly cold hands of Lissandra gripped her shoulders and flung her through the doorway. She landed awkwardly a few feet away from her recently deceased husband. Ashe turned to eye the lofty woman with dread as she patiently strode across the room and over to her.

"And I want you to realize that your denial has meant that you and your tribe are nothing but snowflakes. And we, the Frostguard, are an avalanche that will bury the world." Ashe stared at the woman with mounting fright. Would Lissandra consume all of Valoran just as she was now beginning to consume Freljord?

**A/N**: Thanks for reading! Reviews are welcome. Tell me what you think. Next chapter is to come very soon.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **As promised, chapter 2. WARNING: Graphic non-consensual intercourse here. Absolutely no one under 18 please. If dark fics aren't your thing then turn away now because it only gets darker. Otherwise, please enjoy.

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"But do not think that your skills have gone unnoticed child. I've been watching you for a long time." Lissandra was now standing directly in front of Ashe and kneeled down to eye level. "There will be use for you in the coming of the new world." Lissandra gently glided her ghostly fingers down her cheek as she spoke. Ashe smacked the hand away.

"I will not be a part of your heinous plots!" So the girl had some fight left after all. The witch would be disappointed if she didn't. Lissandra grabbed hold Ashe's wrist in a vice grip. "Oh dear child, you will be a part of my plans whether you like it or not." With that, Lissandra's face began to seemingly melt away. Her whole body lost form and definition before slowly rematerializing with the soft peachy color of skin. Her body reduced in size, a head shorter and notably slimmer without the protective layers of ice. The mask that jutted outward from her face shrank and vanished, to be replaced with pale blue eyes, an appropriately small nose, and flowing silver hair. The hard cold frame gave way to succulently smooth flesh. The armor of ice encasing the witch's torso vanished to reveal bare full breasts and a taunt stomach. Ashe stared in shock. A moment ago she was staring at the inhuman and crude form of the northern ice witch, but now it was herself that stared back. Lissandra was a doppelganger.

The mage smirked at the archer's expression before emitting that same manic laughter. A familiar chill trailed up Ashe's back. The newly formed nude replica of herself spoke, the voice identical to her own. "You see, I don't really need you at all to use you. You've already done the work I needed. Made yourself a figurehead that all Freljord can recognize. Made yourself one of the most iconic champions within the League. Spun a web great enough to pull all of Valoron and yet you have no idea how to use these strings. But you don't have to worry about that now."

With that the transformed Lissandra suddenly pulled Ashe in to her, looping an arm around to secure her body as her other hand held the back of Ashe's head in place. Without any time to react Ashe could do little but watch in distraught surprise as the lips of the other Ashe smashed into her own. Full soft lips pushed against hers with unsympathetic force. The young archer struggled to push herself off the assaulting mage with no avail. Lissandra contained her with an iron grip and Ashe had little strength to fight, given her injuries. She felt as if she was a helpless fly caught in the web of this relentless witch. As moist tongue slid across her lips Ashe became desperate to force Lissandra off. She dug her nails into Lissandra's newly formed flesh. To her dismay there was no reaction as she pushed in as hard as she could and dragged her nails down the Iceborn's collar bone. Blood was drawn and dripped down onto her hand. Finally Lissandra reacted, but not in the way Ashe hoped. With her lips still hard-pressed against her own the young queen could feel Lissandra smile before finally pulling away from her face. The firm grip around her body, along with the haunting grin, remained.

Ashe had absolutely no control of the situation. She was at the mercy of the powerful mage before her, who, looked considerably less menacing sitting as the nude form of Ashe. It would be foolish to assume that in this body she didn't have the same potential though. "I may bleed like you, sweet Ashe. But I do not feel pain like you." Lissandra suddenly grabbed onto the archer's wounded shoulder and pulled forward. Then as Ashe came forward she pushed back with considerable strength. Ashe felt something in her arm separate and stab into her skin while tearing muscle and tendons. Bolts of white hot lightning shot from her shoulder and through her entire body. The pain that erupted in her mind took her away from the situation for a brief moment. She struggled to pull herself back. She was barely able to register the fact that she was now laid on the floor with her back against the eloquently stitched carpets. She did notice, however, when Lissandra, sporting her own beautifully feminine features, crawled over her and leaned in so that her face hovered between her head and shoulder. She whispered lightly in Ashe's ear, "No matter how this goes I won't be the one hurting. I will have my way. And I can be mean – "Ashe caught her breath as the top of the robe was torn to reveal her cleavage. Lissandra didn't take a moment to stare as she leaned back down and said ever so softly "or I can be nice." The witch gently kissed Ashe's ear, allowing her lips to briefly clasp at the cartilage.

A soft hand slid down to Ashe's breast, kneading it before a thumb delicately brushed over her nipple. Ashe gasped and, almost out of pure reaction, pulled her good arm back and slapped the offending witch as hard as she could. Instantly, she was aware of what a terrible mistake that was. In the blink of an eye the powerful shape shifter used one hand to push down on Ashe's nose and mouth. The hand pushed harder and harder until the cartilage broke. A bite of throbbing pressure radiated through the archer's face. She couldn't breathe and the fine carpets beneath her head gave little cushion from the stone floor beneath. The only thing keeping blood from pouring out her nose and onto her face was the hand that broke it. Lissandra's free hand moved beneath royal robes to squeeze Ashe's breast in a death grip. Nails burrowed carelessly into the full rounded tissue. Lissandra stared into her eyes as Ashe's body jerked and fought for air. The look in the Iceborn's eyes was deadly and demanding. They demanded that Ashe obeyed. So the young Freljordian, desperate for release, submitted and ceased her thrashing. The hand was removed from her mouth and grazed along her throat as Ashe coughed and sputtered. Blood oozed down onto her face. Lissandra's uncharacteristically soft hand released her breast and pinched the nipple roughly before bringing it up to cup the face of the hurting woman. It was not so much an act of comfort more than it was to keep the archer still as Lissandra leaned down and licked the blood off her lips. She kissed her once more, this time gentler than the first. She captured Ashe's bottom lip and lightly sucked on it before licking the length of the swollen flesh and pulled up to gage her response. Waves of pain were shooting from various points of the archer's body. She was disgusted at the fact that the soft touches were actually soothing to her soreness. She was disturbed that everything within her that was not screaming for escape was begging for obedience. The helpless queen prayed someone would find her. At least to distract the witch long enough for her to escape. If not she was sure to suffer a fate worse than her dearly deceased husband. She would welcome an icy death over this torture.

Then the mage straddled the queen and held up her hand. In it began to form that trademark black ice. It soon took the shape of a blade; jagged and uneven but none the less sharp. Lissandra made sure she had seen it before reaching it behind her back. Ashe felt something cold and sharp digging into her robes directly over her nether regions. Again she looked Lissandra in the eye, silently pleading for her to stop this time. "I can be mean." The ice blade pressed harder causing Ashe to involuntarily whimper "Or I can be nice." The pressure disappeared though the blade remained. "The choice is yours child. Which do you want?" Despite having the ability to duplicate Ashe's voice as well as her figure it was Lissandra's characteristically dominant and heartless voice that carried these words.

Ashe just wanted to die. She wanted to either die or wake up from this terrible nightmare. The proud and noble queen of Freljord was on the ground completely powerless to the shameful whims of the witch of the north. "Please… don't hurt me. Or please just go ahead and kill me." There was nothing else to be done. Nothing but surrender.

Lissandra smiled. She had won this battle. Now was time to reap the rewards. Soon enough she would also be claiming the prize of conquering Freljord. Placing her hands on either side of a full head of silver hair she spoke, her voice returning to the confident voice of the Avarosan queen "I'm afraid both are out of the question dear. You will live for some time more. And I can guarantee that I will hurt you. It's only a matter of whether I am sympathetic to your inevitable plight. Obey me. Submit to my insurmountable power and the power of Freljord's future and I will be kind. Resist me and you will suffer greatly."

There was nothing Ashe could do. There was nothing more she could do for her nation, for herself, or her dwindling pride. There was nothing she could do but lie in wait for this dreadful day to end so that she may sleep and hope to never wake again. Her shoulder throbbed with a numbing pain and various points throughout her body stung from the splinters embedded in it. She could no longer breathe through her nose and every breath she took through her mouth burned with frigidity that she was unfamiliar with in the cold land of Freljord. The proud and noble queen had never felt so weak and powerless. Ashe let her body go lax, completely giving up any attempt to fight the wicked witch. There was no point.

Lissandra immediately recognized this as a sign of submission. The gaze of the sinful witch softened and was considerably less threatening "A wise choice." With that she leaned down and brushed her lips against Ashe's, leaving a feather light peck against them. She then retrieved the black crystal blade from the floor. The floors of the palace shook as the sound of a large structure collapsing echoed through the building. Ashe flinched as the deadly ice was brought up and hovered over her chest. "Be still." She would obey the command out of fear of the knowledge that the woman above her would not hesitate to cut her to pieces. More that she would do so in a non-lethal manner than giving her the relief of a quick death, that would be too merciful.

Lissandra carefully cut the initial tare between her breasts down to just below her belly button. She swiftly cut the sleeve along Ashe's good arm and then, more slowly, cut the sleeve around her bad arm and pulled the robe back. The shoulder was clearly dislocated and it was likely that the bone that connected to her socket had fractured. Undoubtedly, more damage had been caused by Lissandra's brutal hands than the sturdy stone wall. Lissandra stole a glance at Ashe who lay perfectly still, quietly breathing through her mouth in an attempt to keep calm. The witch leaned down and gently kissed the wounded shoulder. Ashe did not move a muscle.

Pleased with the response Lissandra peeled back the upper half of Ashe's robes and studied her toned and endearing figure. "How could such a beautiful Freljordian woman give herself so willing to a barbarian grunt?" The witch shook her head. Ashe did not take the insult lightly as her "barbarian grunt" was now lost and so was the cause for wedding him. Her pride was being stripped away, bit by bit. She understood exactly what it was the witch wanted to do. It was not enough to defeat the Avarosan army, the city, or Ashe in battle. It was not enough to strip Ashe of her crown, her bow, and her title.

Lissandra allowed hands investigate the archer's supple skin. She trailed her fingertips along Ashe's toned stomach relishing the feel as the underlying muscles flexed but offered no other resistance. Sliding her hand up to grope a perky breast again, Lissandra lowered herself once more and began to kiss the creamy skin of the submitting queen's throat. Ashe did her best to remain still and ignore the sensations of Lissandra's lips against her neck and the witch's bare breasts resting upon her own. Ignored the confusing and awkward feeling of her own body pressing against hers. Ignored the way her body longed to react. Finding a pounding pulse the shape shifter sucked firmly for several moments. Enjoying the fact that she could so effortlessly stop that pulse if she chose. Enjoying the fact that its source knew this just as well, yet still offered no resistance. The witch, still in Ashe's form, gently nipped and licked the newly formed hickey before pulling away. The Iceborn thought momentarily about adding more but decided that could wait. She would rather move on to bigger and better things. She trailed gentle kisses up Ashe's neck toward her face. Another boom resounded through the palace. Already on edge, the queen couldn't help but jump in a start. Lissandra took advantage of the distraction and stuck her tongue in the disengaged woman's mouth. Ashe resisted the urge to bite down, knowing it would do no good. The witch began to explore every crevice of her mouth, teasing the exasperated woman's tongue with her own. Her mouth had the taste of mild sweetness, almost like that of a blueberry. Lissandra's tongue wiggled over Ashe's, teasing it in a feeble attempt to make it engage. The stubborn queen mounted what little opposition she felt she could get away with and remained defiantly still. Lissandra knew all too well that she would have her way, though.

Soon enough Ashe began to shift and timidly attempt to break the kiss. She couldn't breathe. No oxygen could possibly get through her broken nose and Lissandra's mouth had become a remorseless barrier. After a few moments, as the archer's struggle grew more frantic, Lissandra pulled back to allow the woman to gasp for air. The ice witch sucked on the skin above her windpipe while allowing the disoriented queen to breathe for a minute. She grazed her tongue along the woman's throat to her chin before once again locking eyes, her expression ever cold and unreadable. In Ashe's form she was completely identical to the Avarosan queen and being that their mannerisms were often similar it would be nearly impossible to tell the two apart. The only notable difference was that Ashe carful and benevolent while Lissandra was merciless and malevolent.

The witch spoke "I'm going to kiss you again. This time you are going to kiss me back. Or I will not let up until your lovely face of yours turns as blue as mine." Without much time to comprehend the statement Lissandra again enclosed on the archer and snaked her tongue into Ashe's strangely familiar mouth. The slick muscle went down to stroke that of the submitting woman's as a cold hand painfully gripped her hip. Ashe thought about resisting. Thought again about biting down on the witch's wretched tongue. She thought about kicking, thrashing, and eye gouging. She thought, maybe, if she fought hard enough then her violator would become frustrated and give her the liberation of a swift demise. She knew, however, that it would not be so. Lissandra intended to torture and break the woman long before she experienced that relief. No, her best bet was to concede and do as told. Slowly, regretfully, Ashe's tongue began to move and caressed Lissandra's. The act made her mentally reel. The sensation of Lissandra's lips moving with her own and the message of a strong forceful kiss that soon reached an even pace was frighteningly appealing. The witch's tongue pushed and guided her at will. The way Lissandra stroked her tongue, the way she silently relayed seductive messages through the kiss, the way her lips pushed up over Ashe's almost seemed to suggest the witch had been doing this for centuries. As if she had kissed the Freljordian queen thousands of times before. Precise control, perfectly sustained tension carried the kiss. Ashe did her best to keep up in hopes the wicked woman would remain content as the effort of the kiss quickly had her craving air. She hoped that was the case as Lissandra broke the kiss all too soon. She had kept one promise.

Satisfied, Lissandra decided it was time to move on. She shifted so that her knees rested over to the side of Ashe. The witch gingerly kissed the firm stomach of the archer a few times before suddenly gripping either side of her fluent robes and pulling. The robe completely splint in two and Ashe lay bare for the other woman to scrutinize. Her hand twitched with a desire to cover herself. She denied it. Vulnerable, she closed her eyes in dismay but offered little resistance as Lissandra moved her lips along her pelvic area between her stomach and legs. Her body grew rigid as the terrible witch situated between Ashe's legs and gave a quick delicate lick up the length of her bare slit. The Freljordian couldn't help but shiver. "Fear not, child. You will love this." But fear was exactly what Lissandra wanted, among other things, she would revel in the fear of the unknown for just a bit longer before claiming the Avarosan queen. She glided her hands along Ashe's once flawlessly smooth skin. Sure to feel every inch of the tiring woman's torso, even the various wounds inflicted by the breaking of the door. On occasion she even pulled a splinter of wood from the sensitive flesh and kissed the wound as Ashe struggled with herself to be as still as a statue. It was becoming near impossible however. Somehow the Lissandra's (or her own?) cool hands were gradually warming her up with the otherwise gentle caresses.

With her eyes shut tightly she was unaware when Lissandra bent down and flicked her tongue over a now erect nipple. An unconscious gasp escaped her lips as she looked down at her assailant. Lissandra smirked up at her as her hand was now rubbing along the outside of her thigh. Despite the desire to continue to drink up the expression of the archer as she silently begged for mercy, Lissandra was too committed to her actions to linger much longer. As the moments drew closer she found herself more eager with the anticipation. Feeling far more wound than she had felt in the moments leading up to the invasion of Avarosa. Everything was falling into place. As swiftly as she could blink she enclosed the stiffened nipple in her mouth and sucked hard. Ashe squirmed uncomfortably. Lissandra's soft hands came up to hold her sides in an unspoken command to be still. The helpless woman gripped the carpet and obeyed. She would suckle roughly on Ashe's increasingly tender breast before dragging her tongue around and over her nipple. Being sure to bite down none too gently before giving the same attention to her other tit.

Lissandra left the young woman's sore breasts and wormed a hand around the back of her head to pull her into another kiss. There was no need to coax this time as the queen kissed back without hesitation. Lissandra was more than pleased. She thought of her domination of the noble queen a fitting symbol of her soon to be established control of Freljord. Without warning or breaking the kiss the ice witch suddenly jammed two fingers into Ashe's uninviting hole. She began to pump at an uneven and brutal pace as muscles instinctively clenched around the unwelcomed invasion. It only made the experience more painful. The distraught champion broke the kiss and groaned against Lissandra's jaw. The silky hole was far tighter and resistant than she had expected. It didn't make much of a difference to her, though she wondered if the agonized queen was wishing she had bothered to be intimate with her husband more frequently. The sadistic witch lowered her head to stare at Ashe's pitiful appearance while she slammed into her over and over again. She didn't bother kissing her for the moment, taking pleasure in the way Ashe bit her lip in a struggle to remain defiantly silent. It was a battle she was sure to lose.

Lissandra began to slow to a steadier, more considerate pace. She stroked Ashe's side while occasionally groping her breast and tweaking her nipples. The archer's body was all the more rigid and tense as she questioned whether she could endure this. Ashe wondered how she would fight the madness that was sure to ensue. The maniacal woman leaned down while lessening her ministrations to a mild rocking as she engulfed one of the archer's breasts in her mouth. Ever so slowly she swirled her tongue around the pink bud. The initial shock of the violent intrusion was over and it gave way to the surprise of the tenderness contact. Ashe could feel the witch's fingers gently wiggle and press upward inside her. In the meantime her free hand began to roam; caressing her bosom, stomach, and thighs so lightly she probably wouldn't notice if it weren't for the faint tickling sensation and the trail of tingling nerves left in its wake. The skilled frost archer had never been with anyone to take such care with sex. Not any the times she had been with Tryndamere had she ever experienced anything like this carefully sensual attention. The difference was hot and cold. It was night and day. She suddenly felt sick to her stomach thinking of her husband who lay mere feet from where she was being so ungraciously dishonored. She was quickly distracted from these thoughts, however, as the invading fingers found what they were searching for and grazed over that special spot. Ashe threw her head to the side as her hips shifted over the shot of pleasure that was sent through her torso. The sudden movement caused her body to throb from her wounds. She bit her lip harder and somehow managed to keep from making a sound despite her head beginning to swim outside of reality.

The act was glorious to Lissandra. To have the proud and righteous queen squirming beneath her all encompassing power was a sight she would not soon forget. The witch decided to stop allowing the young archer to distract herself and captured her lips once more in a powerful kiss. Knowing her captive would try to please she threw every ounce of what could be called passion into the kiss. She would stand correct in her assumption as Ashe returned the kiss with appropriate vigor. Lissandra slowly began to pick up the pace of her ministrations while still being considerably gentle. Each time she pressed upward into Ashe's sweet spot she began to wonder how long the helpless queen could hold out. Then she lightly brushed her thumb against Ashe's clit and received a pleasing reward as Ashe moaned lustfully into the shape shifter's inviting mouth. The taste was exquisite. The Freljordian noble was fading fast as she matched Lissandra's tempo and the sweet aroma of her juice invaded the witch's mind. This couldn't help but make the witch wonder how the beautiful woman's other lips tasted. Moving on down the archer's toned and uneasy body, Lissandra left fervent kisses and impatient nips in her wake. She slowly removed her fingers, dragging them forcefully along the top as she did. The archer eyed her with a mixture of concern and arousal. The ice mage pressed her thumb against the unprepared woman's clit and wedged in the length of her tongue into the velvety walls. Ashe stifled a moan that was eventually released as a faint whimper as the thick muscle swiveled inside her. Lissandra noted that taste of her unintentional arousal distinctively sweet with a faint tangy after taste. It was very much worth not being able to have a clear view of the disturbed champion's face. As the Iceborn played with the archer's sex she also played with an edge that the Avarosan wouldn't dare to even inch to. Lissandra pushed her and Ashe did little more than drag her feet. After a moment she replaced her fingers, adding a third and pushing hard into the hungry depths of her silken flower. She did not give her long to adjust before reaching a rapid and powerful pace.

The breaths of the increasingly dissociated archer came out as a dry pant as it seemed she couldn't get enough air. She hated herself for letting this happen. She hated her body for reacting so readily to it. Most of all she hated the woman who so swiftly overwhelmed her state and her body. Freljord would never be the same. Ashe would never be the same. It was all too likely this injustice would go unpunished. Even if it were, the damage could not be undone. The sanctity of the confident independence she treasured would forever be tainted; assuming she would manage to keep it. The ice witch decided that both shouldn't wait any longer and pressed her tongue onto the swollen bundle of nerves, circling in a velocity that matched her fingers. Ashe could not help but whimper as tingling waves of pleasure built and coiled tightly within her stomach. For a brief moment her pain was gone. Her fear was gone. Every care the Avarosan queen ever had vanished in the moment. There was one and only one thing she could be allowed to care for. Her assailant drank up in full knowledge of what was being done. Then, without skipping a beat, Lissandra ever so gently grazed her teeth along the whole of Ashe's womanhood.

Taunt muscles broke into contractions as an overwhelmingly powerful orgasm rocked her body. The recently dismissed queen was too far gone to even think of trying to contain her cry of ecstasy or to control her hips as they bucked wildly against the witch's fingers. Certainly too far gone to realize the ache of jerking around her broken arm. It was a sight Lissandra could grow used to, she gleefully thought as she brought the woman down with long slow thrusts. As the waves of pleasure subsided and her captive grew limp, the witch kissed and licked her way up Ashe's body, being sure to nibble at a tender breast before continuing up to the defeated champion's face. She stopped a moment to allow her body to return to its natural Iceborn form. The icy mage's face, once again shrouded in that trademark mask, hovered a mere inch over Ashe's who held her eyes closed. "Look at me." The witch commanded. Gradually the pale blue orbs came into view and Lissandra noticed that they held within them a glossy, faraway look. Victory had been assured and now it was confirmed. The frost archer was hers. Avarosa was hers. Freljord would be hers. Valoran would soon follow suit.

Lissandra got off the humiliated and dishonored queen to kneel on the floor beside her. She scooped the archer up, careful to avoid putting unnecessary pressure on her wounded shoulder. Though her face betrayed no emotion, she rose with the delirious champion in her ghostly arms and strode with mounting pride over to the bedroom window. With her head propped up on Lissandra's shoulder Ashe could see the remains of the once great Avarosan city. The knowledge that the city would certainly fall without a strategic leader did not prepare her for what she saw when she gazed numbly at the ruins of her sacred city. Thick black ice sheeted each and every one of the buildings. Dozens of them had collapsed due to the overbearing weight of the crystalline oppression. Even from this height she could make out more than a few of the bodies of her fallen comrades. There was no more commotion and the celebration had long died out with her hope. Everything was now still, solid, and silent. It was a haunting prospect. Lissandra would literally bury the world in ice.

"Look child. Your city was no match for the Iceborn. Countless more will be reborn just as we are giving birth to a great new Freljord. The time draws near to release the remaining Watchers. You see the greatest power of Freljord, the power of freedom, the power of security, and the power of enrichment, lies within Freljord itself. You and your kind have buried and forgotten this ancient power. I want you to remember now what it is you have banished for it is meant to be yours as much as it is mine. Soon the might of Freljord will be unearthed in all its glory and it will shine into the farthest regions of our unified nation. Freljord will rise so unbreakably strong that not even the League will be able to control her." Lissandra's shifted so that Ashe's head now rested against her forearm. She looked up at the domineering witch, barely able to grasp what she was saying. "And I want you to be here to witness it all. I want you to be alive to witness all your greatest dreams come true. Perhaps you will even have the chance for redemption, child. On that matter, the choice is yours." The last part rolled out in an indistinct whisper and the slightest air of comfort followed as the witch stroked the silver mane of hair below her.

Redemption…

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**A/N**: This was hard to write, in more ways than one. Originally I was meaning to leave this story here. I do however have ideas about continuing it. Please review and tell me what you guys think. I read all reviews and always consider advice/suggestions. They are very important to me. Thank you readers and reviewers.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **First of all thank you all so much for the reviews. They mean alot to me and are the very reason this story is being continued. They've also given me some ideas and I am trying to listen to your suggestions and make adjustments according to your input. Please continue to tell me how I'm doing. Second of all I am SO sorry that it has taken so long for me to upload this chapter. I've had most of it written out for a while but some shit happened and I lost over half of it. In a fit of rage I ignored it for sometime because what got deleted I had worked really hard on. Still sad that what I rewrote is nothing like what it once was. I also have not edited this as much as I would have liked, the last couple weeks have been crazy. As a result I'm not entirely happy with the chapter and will likely go back and edit it when I feel more articulate. Regardless, I am still here and I am still writing. And I do believe I have ranted enough, here is chapter 3.

Ashe didn't know how long she had been down here. Days? Weeks? Months? There was no way to tell. No matter where she went there was no way to see outside and there were no references of time in any of the dozens of rooms and hallways that crisscrossed the labyrinth that was Freljord's ancient ruins. It had been some time at least. Her nose was healing; she could breathe through it again. Her shoulder didn't hurt as much though if she attempted to move her arm within the confines of the sling it always reminded her what the sling was for. The soreness had dissipated to a dull ache as she moved. Most of her other injuries were healed thanks to a Frostguard medic who seemed less than enthused to be helping while he reluctantly fulfilled his task at picking out each and every one of the splinters stuck in her tender flesh. She wasn't quite enthused either to have the gaunt and dirty looking man working on her but he did treat her injuries properly. He had reset her nose and insensitively, yet correctly, repositioned her shoulder and placed her arm in a sling. That had been the last time the Avarosan had seen the ice witch Lissandra when she, literally, dropped her in the doctor's chambers. Ashe wondered if that was a good thing or a bad thing. She didn't particularly want to see the mage again. In fact she would be perfectly happy to never see wicked ice bitch again. She knew she didn't have the strength to face the witch in a respectable manner, whether the Iceborn would let her or not. The images of herself that was not herself violating her in such a way, the thought of how Tryndamere was frozen in time and forced to watch, the way Avarosa collapsed under the Iceborn's tyranny greatly disturbed her. The way she had reacted to it tormented her. Guilt and shame were all she had felt since. It was everything she could do to distract herself from these thoughts and feelings.

One way she occupied herself, most obviously, was looking for an escape. But the long dimly lit corridors were carved of solid stone and seemed to never end. She rarely had the slightest idea of what floor she was on, let alone what room she was in or how far from an exit she was. Her mind played tricks on her in the shadows of the Freljordian underground. The place was unnervingly still and deftly quiet, yet there seemed to be an essence of sound echoing from every direction. Torches that lined the walkways gave off little heat or light and seemed to do little more than suck precious oxygen from the chilly tunnels. The atmosphere of the long corridors was stale and cold. There was some sort of weak musky scent that clung to the air, but Ashe couldn't identify it. Her eyes constantly surveyed her surroundings, weary of what could be lurking in the gloom of the frosty hallways and typically vacant rooms. There were no hearths or fireplaces to warm the rooms that were open and empty. The few furnishings in the ruins that weren't made of stone were made of metal. The archer got the sense that decore of any sort was a precious luxury as finding so much as a brass lantern was like finding the yordle scout in a bush. She supposed it wasn't surprising as trees did not grow this far north and virtually nothing else was adept to grow in the hostel weather of her beloved homeland. This left minerals as the only option for construction. It must have taken generations to dig out and build the ancient underground of Freljord. She couldn't say she didn't appreciate the monumental construction. It only made her sad that none but Lissandra's people could visit the ruins and live. Though the Avarosan could not see them, she felt the ghosts of her long deceased ancestors watching her from the down the passages. Their pride, their power, and their suffering mocked the thoughts blundering through her mind; it only added to her shame. She had no idea when she slept, if she got enough sleep, or if it was even safe to sleep. Usually, when she could stand to be conscious no more, when her feet burned numb from walking without shoes on the chilled stone floor, when her head hurt as her eyes strained to see down the dim passageways, the Freljord royalty would finally curl up in a corner or crevice to nap lightly. The frost archer had passed more than a few beds that were covered in surprisingly appealing tattered blankets and under stuffed pillows. Not once would she dare to rest in one however, in the fear that its regular occupant would return. Through her explorations she had run into more than a few ruin dwellers. Their reaction had a consistently eerie appeal. Their stares pierced through her as if they were shards of ice. Each had the kind of gaze where the penetrating intensity of it would make one forget how to breathe. Each of them wore this same dissociative grim expression on their grimy faces. On occasion she ran into one whom held up a small morsel of food as a silent offering. At first she was too alarmed to acknowledge it, being that the Frostguard people seemed too need it far more than her. As time wore on and hunger and exhaustion overflowed her otherwise haunted mind she gratefully accepted each offering, cautiously walking up to receive it and running away to eat it. The icy blades emitted from their eyes assaulted her even as she turned her back.

Honestly, under other circumstances the once noble Avarosan queen wouldn't be nearly so skittish. No, on any normal occasion she would have held their freezing stares with an unbreakably solid presence. But these were hardly normal circumstances and no matter how deep the woman reached she could not pull her confidence back to the surface. She was starting to wonder if it was gone; if Lissandra had killed it. In this place Ashe knew little more than fear and discomfort. Fear and worry were almost all she could think of, aside from the haunting memories and the incomprehensible doubts. She was afraid that Lissandra would return to her. She was afraid that she already hadn't. She was afraid that she never would. The skilled archer was terrified that she would be left down here for the rest of her bleak life. The once fearless Freljordian would rather have the witch kill her than force her to live life as a meek shell of her former self. Or even worse, a shell of her former self that bore the title of Frostguard slave. Lissandra's slave. Though she couldn't decide which fate was worse, to be Lissandra's pet, or to die alone down here after however many years she could survive. Either way, she was certain she was facing a life without honor and would be destined to live on with unconditional shame.

Ashe was insatiably irritated with herself. As much disgrace as Lissandra had caused with dishonoring her came just as much from the fact that the stoic queen had allowed it. The frost archer pushed her hair back into the hood of the cloak with her unbound arm as she walked down a long passage way she was sure she'd been before. It was nearly impossible tell. The unprotected feet of the archer scraped against the granite floor. She pushed the pain from her consciousness. No matter how she was to die, by the hand of the enemy or a twist of fate, she decided she would die with dignity. Regardless of how she may suffer she could not willingly submit to the cruel witch. Not in that way. Everything she ever cared about was already lost; she could not allow her pride to be taken as well. Even if it were just the illusion of pride, it would not go down so easily. If the witch wanted to break her spirit then she was going to have to break a sweat. So to speak.

As the dethroned queen continued on through the hall she rubbed her still tender shoulder, feeling lonely. Being alone was nothing she wasn't accustomed to. While the Avarosan was in the city she was usually surrounded by people, officials, generals, and common people. This was why the archer had spent much of her time by herself within the fir woods of Freljord to practice her unrivaled skill of archery. She preferred to hunt by herself. Nothing could interfere with her concentration. No eyes would attempt to dissect her technique. None would be there for her concern. No words were spoken and there was no need for them. Not only did being alone bring her complete awareness of the world around her but it also brought her inner peace. It was not so much the place that was special but rather the state of mind. She longed for that peaceful woodland now as walking through the torch lit corridors of Lissandra's dwelling made her incredibly uneasy. The events that had taken place shook the whole of her foundation. Exhaustion and stress didn't even begin to describe the sensation of having to experience everything being ripped away in a single day. The burdened woman was certainly exhausted though. She needed to settle herself, needed rest of both mind and body. She needed to leave this prison of ghosts and stone. Ashe needed that peace, that perfectly unshakable state of mind. As she rounded a corner in the hall Ashe spied an inlet cut into the wall. Within the dark inlay set a primitive stone bench. Ashe rested on the bench and peered down both sides of the hall which was expectantly empty.

Taking a deep breath she pulled her bare feet up to the dark granite to sit Indian style. Her knees jutted off the stone as she carefully rubbed her injured shoulder. The once noble Freljordian laid one hand on her leg while the other rested loosely in its sling. She closed her eyes and cleared her mind. Soon she pushed the world out of her mind while focusing only on the breaths she pulled into her lungs and the way her stomach expanded with each. Each breath drew in Freljord's timeless power. Though it was hard to find it was richer here than anywhere else. She let go of her troubled thoughts. Let go of the worry for Freljord, the fear for Lissandra, and the shame of her plight. After a few moments of blissful silence she tried to recall her favorite moments spent alone. One instance in particular stood out. On the rarely clear mornings she spent within her Avarosan city she would often sneek off to sit on the balcony to watch the sunrise. She took herself there now. Imagined her feet hanging off the edge of the tall building as she stared across her beloved city. Saw the sun peeking over the edge of the mountains further east and the pink and orange glow it reflected through the sky. Admired the way the frost and snowfall sparkled at the dawn of the new day. She allowed this timeless splendor to wash away the troubles of yesterday. Allowed the certainty and strength of her favorite place rise up within her chest. The content focus absorbing everything else within her mind. She felt again as she would then. Strong. Safe. Blessed. Nothing in the world could touch her. And if it dared to try she would be more than a worthy adversary. All was not lost so long as the frost archer could breath. There was more for her. There would be more for her. The ghosts of Freljord whispered promises of redemption to the edges of her peaceful state. The confident reassurance of her soul spread throughout her body and filled every crevice within her mind. She lived in it, allowing it to pulse through her finger tips and flow with her breaths. Then she pulled it back and pushed it deep within herself, to a place where no one would be able to find it, and locked it away to be safe. So long as it was safe she would be safe. As long as she lived the confidence would be held within her for her to unlock when she had need.

Her back straight with her muscles relaxed and her mind entirely focused, she sensed the man walking down the long corridor long before she heard him. Her eyes opened slowly allowing the dim light to reveal the light mists of her calm breath. Though it had been the first time she had spotted a Frostguard walking through one of the dozens of overlapping halls she found she was unconcerned with him or his business. The vulnerable archer would have been frightened had it been moments before. Alertly, she eyed him but did not bother to move. The man wore a heavy charcoal colored coat with the sleeves cut that made him seem larger and more fearsome than he actually was. His steel grey eyes locked on to her and assaulted her with the same look, the frigid piercing stare of the Frostguard. The noble archer faced it, challenged it while still sitting Indian style on the cold stone bench, her cloak bunched up around her. Neither backed down as the tall dark haired man strode nearer. When he reached her he stopped and watched her through the corner of his eyes, his hulking form facing forward still.

"You have been summoned by the mistress." He sounded like his throat was made of sandpaper and talking was painful. His tone did not falter however, "I may take you by force if necessary."

There was no doubt about who he spoke of. The Iceborn had finally come for her. She looked hard at the man, knowing it would be unwise to go but also knowing she had nowhere else to go. This was Lissandra's domain and it was doubtful she could avoid the ice witch for long. She doubted whether she even wanted to at this point. She stood and motioned for him to lead the way. Instead the Frostguard side stepped and titled his head forward to indicate she go first. Without an argument she strode ahead of him and they began to walk down the chilly corridors from which she had come. No matter what happened it wasn't going to be good. Neither was sitting down here in the frigid darkness. No matter what happened her soul would be safe.

* * *

A sturdy and stoic woman sat proudly atop her reliant means of transportation, Bristle the mountain boar, as she looked out from the mountain toward the east. The volatile mixture of ice and snow assaulted her face which, although bare, did not shy from the battery. Where most men would be brought to his knees over the harsh Freljordian climate, Sejuani would barely bat an eyelash. She did not flinch from the storm now as she looked out toward the east, peering into a wall of white to study the clouds above, reading them as an artist would analyze a painting. Her gaze trained eastward where the valley of Avarosa was cradled beyond the mountains. The storm had given its best and would be moving on soon. It would have left Avarosa just days ago. Though they were not visible she could clearly see each and every one of the mountains that dotted the land around her. The map of the land was imprinted into her mind just as the harshness of the land was in tuned with her body. This deep into the winter meant the worst of the storms were upon them, still it was no reason for everything to be going so wrong in her beloved homeland.

The sound of snow being shuffled by heavy feet stole her attention. Walking up the snowy mountain pass appeared a tall man. Though he was no more than a few yards off the white out made seeing any more than the silhouette of curved horn mounted helmet and broad shoulders impossible. Still it was more than enough to tell Sejuani who was intruding on her thoughts. As he drew near his features confirmed who she knew it to be. He bowed his head in a show of respect. The boar rider returned it.

Olaf set the handle of one of his axe's into the snow and leaned on it, joining Sejuani as she gazed in the direction of the Freljord flatlands that Avarosa called home. Land their ancestors were pushed out of long ago. "You think Avarosa could disrupt summoning?" the warrior grumbled.

Sejuani huffed. "Not likely. But if anyone knows what in Freljord is going on it would be them. Though I feel they are already knee deep in their own trouble. They either know of it or are consumed by it. I, for one, do not feel content to wait around and see what happens." It was a week ago when the Avarosan champions failed to be summoned. The only clan to be successfully summoned was her own, though matches were immediately canceled. A few days ago the League failed to make contact with them. Although the rigid woman preferred to be doing things on her own she did not favor being left in the dark.

Olaf scratched his long bear with his free hand. "Not to say I don't agree with you Chief, but to send the army into the unknown is fool's work. Should fort up for now."

Sejuani pulled the reigns attached to Bristle's tusks so that he would turn to face the berserker. "By no means would I risk our forces. I am proposing that we send another party out to survey the Avarosan capital. To find what it is we need to know in order to act appropriately. I will lead this party personally." Not only could she not stay settled with summoning being disrupted, with all outside communication disrupted, but she wanted to speak with the frost archer in person. For reasons she would never care to discuss.

Olaf pulled his axe from the ground. "You can't go. We need you. Send me." He thumped the back of the axe against his chest. His eyes burned with a heat only a warrior would recognize. It was a passion for battle. Not a thirst for blood, it was hunger for a fight.

The boar rider smiled slightly. "We will see what the council has to say but I'm not sending you." The battle hardened warrior began to protest but Sejuani continued on "And no, it's not that I don't trust you. I would rather have you here to build up a defense than have you navigate to a city you've never seen before. I feel that I must go, Olaf. It must be me." Sejuani looked again to the east, to where Avarosa lay past the mountains, before kicking her heels into the thick sides of the boar. With a grunt the creature began to walk past her companion and down the trail. Olaf looked toward the mountains too, just as unhappy as his clansmen to be sitting and waiting. The warrior slowly twirled an axe in his hand as he too began the assent down the mountain.

**A/N: **I feel like this fic will have many difficult characters to write about. But I am determined to include them and will try my best. Let me know what you think. Thanks again for all the input! Much love and good vibes to you my dear readers 3


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